RWW Pass-Along Story

This is our Wiki-Wide Pass Along Story! All users are free to add whatever they want so long as it abides to a couple rules:


 * 1) Keep it clean, Keep to the Protocol as always with this story
 * 2) Try not to add anything TOO large that they'll spend an afternoon so they can add a single sentence to it.
 * 3) Do not just start off a completely new story until the first one is over, or end the current one without some consent that it has gone on long enough.

Other than those feel free to add on anything you want! Just edit the article itself and add your own little piece of the story with your username in capital letters above it.

THE BEGINNING OF THE STORY
CORBUS

Our story of madness and beauty and possible disembowelment begins in the forest of Mossflower at the banks of the River Moss where a small holt of otters lives peacefully and in near bliss in the wonderful land of Redwall.

WILDY

A tall, copper-furred otter, Arina O'Rourke, sat on the riverbank cuddling a small ottercub in her lap. She spoke to the cub in a soft Highland accent. "Ah remember the day I found ye, Willow. Your birth mum was bein' chased by a band o' weasels. . . she ran past mah holt, pounded on the door until ah opened et and pushed a bundle into mah arms. Ah ken she said 'Take care o' mah bairn' afore she ran." Arina's voice broke and tears spilled down her cheeks. "Ah dinnae ken ef she survived. . .  ah promised her ah'd love an' raise ye like ye were mah oon." She smiled and kissed the cub's head. " Ah've never broken that promise, ah never will."

ND

On the other side of the riverbank the reflection of the sun began to make it's way across, gleaming brightly on the surface and reflecting into the trees near the bank. As Arina sat with her adopted cub reflecting on the past, a steely gray male otter padded to the river from behind. Crouching down on his haunches, he began washing his face after sleeping in late. Otters of course weren't bound by any strict punctuality unless they were serving as guards or were prepared for war. At this point violence of any sort was very rare in the region, and so some warriors had the alternating privilege of catching up on their rest without being thrown out of their sacks.

LORD HIGHCLIFFE

Several young otters played in the water, splashing and laughing. On the banks, bubbling pots of hotroot soup boiled over the cookfires, tended by ottermums. A couple young ottermaids were cleaning the wash in the swift-moving waters. Dylano, a young male otter and some friends fished together.
 * There was a sound of voices and a band of adult otters walked into the holt's camp. Their leader, a tall, muscular beast nodded his greeting to the holt chieftain.

"Me an' my patrol've scouted up an' down the river. No sign of any trouble to be had today. There is a storm lookin' to be comin up tomorrer, though."

WILDY

The chieftain, a rangy, tan-furred otter named Dorvan Streambattle, clasped the speaker's paw. "Glad to hear yore report, Lyram. I thought I smelled rain this morning. Do y' suppose the storm'll be bad enough that we have t' hole up inside the holt for a few days?" He looked around the holt before taking his companion aside. "I've been thinkin' for a long while now and I was wonderin' when a good time t' tell you this would be. No better time than the present, matey. I don't know when my time will come t' cross Dark Forest's gates, but when it does, I need a beast in my pawsteps who can lead our holt with compassion and courage." Dorvan smiled. "Lyram Riverdog, I'd like ye t' be the next Skipper after me."